An Unknown Cost
by Tristifico
Summary: Narcissa thinks about how her beauty, for better or worse, has bought her the life she has today. One shot.


This fic was written so long ago that I actually forgot I'd wanted to put it up. But here it is, slightly edited, and I must say that I never get tired of re-reading it. (:

Do enjoy, but please reflect a little too.

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**A Cost She Did Not Know**

"Mistress, please wake up now, it already is eight o' clock!" Tobby's rather loud voice was jarring, especially in the quiet morning, but at least he could speak without making too many grammatical mistakes. Narcissa Malfoy opened her eyes, and ignoring the creak of her shoulders, sat up in bed. She had long ago learnt to give up stretching before getting up, or even blearily rub her eyes; such things were simply ungraceful and so inappropriate for a woman of status like her. The place beside her was already cold- her husband had probably gone to work already.

She accepted the glass of water Tobby was holding out to her on a tray without even thinking, just as she had done so for the past three decades. _"Drinking water right after you wake up improves your complexion, Narcissa," she could hear her mother saying, "You want to get a good husband, don't you?" _

Narcissa then moved to her toilet, still on autopilot, where she was attended to by her personal house elves. One of them –was his name Bobby? Cobby?- snapped his fingers, and immediately she felt that her teeth was perfectly clean and white enough to dazzle when she smiled at her social parties. Another gently washed her face, first with warm water then cold, and then briskly dabbed some sort of moisturizing potion on her face. It seemed that they treated her face like they would a precious vase- carefully and gently, but to them there was no difference between cold glass and warm flesh.

Then she was led to her dressing table, and a house elf brought boxes of jewellery and several dresses for her to choose from, and she absently pointed at a flowing dove gray robe embroided with patterns at its hem, and fished out a diamond necklace, a pair of earrings, and a slim bracelet to go with the robe.

Then the elves did her hair and put on her makeup for her, changing the colours slightly to match her dress. For a brief moment, she envied them for their long nimble fingers, twisting her hair into an elegant chignon, and she looked down at her own slender fingers that would tangle her hair up. The moment faded soon, as she considered their ugly faces, bulbous eyes, floppy ears.

"_You are lucky, Narcissa. There are so many potions to make you beautiful in just an instant. Remember your great-grandmother Violetta? Her waist was a mere fourteen inches- you've seen her portrait many times- but look what at what she had to go through to achieve that." _

Narcissa remembered, then, the beautiful, fashionable woman eternalized on canvas, but also remembered what Violetta truly was- a woman eternally constricted by the chase for beauty. Her face was vacant, as if her mind and spirit had atrophied through lack of use, but her figure was slim and the robes she was wearing gorgeous.

"_And we are a civilized society- have I told you about what Chinese witches in the past used to do?" Mrs. Black had told her daughter the story many times already, but Narcissa knew she wanted to be heard again, and so numbly shook her head. _

"_The Chinese women bound their feet so that it was barely three? four? inches long. Their mothers wrapped bandages around their feet when they were young, perhaps four or five years old, and the bandages would break the fragile bones of their feet-" At that, her mother made the nauseous sound of bones snapping, and Narcissa winced. _

"Madam, please go down for breakfast now." Tobby's voice shook her from her thoughts.

Narcissa stood up and looked at the clock. Forty-five minutes had passed, and she was starting to feel rather hungry. Before exiting, she glanced once more at the mirror, and saw herself- her skin was smooth and white, her eyes sapphire blue, hair as golden as ever, and demeanor icy as per normal. Looking at that perfect face- was it really hers?- she felt an unexplainable urge to ruin it, to make it messy, to wash away all that makeup.

She turned away from the mirror; unconsciously, she pursed her lips, and just for a split moment that unearthly face shattered and became that of a normal person's. But then she decidedly assumed a slight smile, to greet her son when she would see him at the breakfast table, and her face became yet again that of someone who had achieved great beauty, but perhaps at a cost she herself did not know.

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Review please! 


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